C1 Nine Swords Rushing Thunder

Yuan Village is nestled in the northwest of Essence Connecting State, and the chill of winter had already set in. In the vast expanse of the Essence Connecting State, the village was no more than a speck, easily overlooked.

The people here were passionate about martial arts, and the martial spirit thrived.

Yuan Ling made his way to the Martial Practice Field, trudging through the heavy snow that made each step a struggle.

By the time Yuan Ling reached the Martial Practice Field, it was already bustling with children his age, the oldest among them being twelve or thirteen.

"Martial practitioners focus on cultivating their Qi Meridians and Acupoints," began Yuan Shi, a middle-aged man with a serious demeanor, standing with his arms folded against the backdrop of falling snow. His resonant voice cut through the cold, ensuring every young listener could hear him clearly. "The Qi Meridian consists of 108 pathways within the human body. Once a single meridian is unblocked, it generates Genuine Qi, which is the wellspring of a martial practitioner's power. Not only does it enhance the practitioner's own strength, but at a certain level, it can also be projected to harm an adversary."

Yuan Shi, the Martial Master of Yuan Village, was tasked with instructing the youth under fifteen in the ways of martial arts.

"The Acupoint, on the other hand, is shrouded in even greater mystery," he continued. "There are 108 Acupoints hidden throughout the body. Opening them requires not only a specific technique but also an immense amount of time, up to a hundredfold more. The process is fraught with danger, and due to the immense challenge of cultivating Acupoints, very few martial practitioners undertake it."

Yuan Ling didn't pause at the edge of the Martial Practice Field but continued on his path.

In Yuan Village, to train at the Martial Practice Field, one must first unblock a meridian, a longstanding tradition.

At ten years old, Yuan Ling had not yet opened a single meridian, and thus, he lacked the right to train alongside the others.

"Master Yuan, at what age does an average person manage to open their first meridian?"

A child bundled up in a thick cotton jacket, cheeks flushed red from the cold, suddenly called out loudly.

Yuan Kong was born into the wealthiest family in Yuan Village.

He watched Yuan Ling pass by, his gaze dripping with scorn and smugness.

"Martial artists have varying aptitudes, so naturally, the time it takes to open the first acupoint differs. Typically, opening the first acupoint before the age of ten is normal, seven or eight is considered genius, and before five or six is exceptionally rare genius."

"I opened my first acupoint before I was even eight years old—I guess that makes me a genius!"

Yuan Kong smiled as if he had an epiphany, then turned to Yuan Ling with a sneer. "What a shame, someone is nearly ten and hasn't opened a single acupoint. Such a waste!"

"Exactly, how can those orphans without parents ever compare to our esteemed young master Yuan Kong!"

Yuan Shi stood out among the other youths, tall and imposing at just thirteen, having already opened three acupoints, he was undeniably the top among his peers.

Yuan Ling kept walking, seemingly oblivious to their taunts, but the fists hidden in his sleeves clenched tighter.

"What are you all standing around for? Get back to practice, or are you looking to be punished?"

Yuan Shi's voice cut through the air with a cold snort as he approached, his face stern.

He cast a brief glance at Yuan Ling in the distance, his brow furrowing.

Yuan Ling was well-known to him; despite his diligence, his lack of talent was evident, having not opened a single acupoint.

Such lack of ability clearly indicated that Yuan Ling was unsuited for martial training and lacked the innate gift to become a martial artist.

"I can't fathom what the Village Chief was thinking, giving him a spot for the baptism."

It was well-known that the baptism in Yuan Town was a once-in-a-decade opportunity. To squander such a valuable chance on a youth with no aptitude for cultivation was nothing short of a travesty.

Despite his dissatisfaction with the Village Chief's decision, Yuan Ling knew that once the decision was made, there was little he could do about it.

"Keep practicing! Did you skip breakfast or something? Put some effort into it!" Yuan Shi stopped paying attention to Yuan Ling and turned to earnestly supervise the children's martial arts training.

As dawn broke, Yuan Ling watched his peers' immature martial skills and couldn't help but shake his head slightly. If only he could unblock just one acupoint, he was sure he could defeat Yuan Shi, who often picked on him. Sadly, this challenge had thwarted countless individuals throughout history.

With a sigh, Yuan Ling turned away and strode out of the village.

The ground was blanketed in snow, a picturesque scene, yet it made leaving the village increasingly difficult.

About half an hour later, Yuan Ling trudged along a narrow path through the thick snow until he reached a cave not far from the village.

Gathering firewood, he lit a fire, revealing a cave about thirty feet deep with clear signs of human occupation. In the center stood a roughly crafted human-shaped wooden stake, about Yuan Ling's height, crude but sufficient for training.

Yuan Ling surveyed his cave with contentment; this was his sanctuary, the only place where he could truly find peace.

Having lived in Yuan Village for five years, Yuan Ling had discovered this cave three years prior and had been practicing there ever since.

Yuan Ling prepared himself, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and a vivid image of a person came to mind. It was a handsome man practicing the sword. His movements were not fast, but each gesture and detail were sharply etched in Yuan Ling's memory—a basic routine of the Rushing Thunder Nine Swords, yet it exuded the grandeur of a Sword Dao master.

This photographic memory was his gift, an innate talent that allowed him to recall everything he witnessed with clarity. Whenever he wished, he could close his eyes and observe the scene over and over, as if it were unfolding in the real world.

Drawing his wooden sword, Yuan Ling began to practice, his movements flowing seamlessly: unsheathing the sword, pivoting, delivering a horizontal cut, and thrusting upward...

The sound of the sword slicing through the air was piercing...

Each movement was a precise echo of the swordsman he envisioned in his mind, practicing with unwavering focus.

Despite his tender age, his expression was grave, and an inexplicable aura naturally ascended with each sword style, as if a Sword Dao Grandmaster, utterly devoted to the sword, was personally demonstrating the technique.

Such swordsmanship, such presence, had already reached the realm of Human Sword Unification!

To achieve Human Sword Unification at merely ten years old was a display of Sword Dao Talent seldom seen in the world!

Yet, Yuan Ling remained unimpressed by his own prowess. His exceptional memory enabled him to meticulously observe a Sword Sect Master's relentless practice, time and again—once, twice, ten times, a hundred times, even replicating the movements hundreds of times each day.

With such dedicated effort, achieving Human Sword Unification was hardly surprising.

The Rushing Thunder Nine Swords, a foundational sword art, was designed to open the body's meridians. Mastered to its ultimate level, it could unify nine strikes into one, wielding the power to transform the mundane into the miraculous, though the difficulty of such a feat was immense.

The nine sword techniques seamlessly flowed from one to the next. Although not swift, they left a trail of afterimages, as smooth and continuous as drifting clouds and flowing water, the sword style encountering no resistance whatsoever.

"Ha!"

An hour of sword practice culminated as Yuan Ling's eyes snapped open, and with a thunderous shout, all the sword shadows vanished, the nine techniques of the sword spell converging into a single, astonishing move.

Thwack!

The wooden sword carved a deep gash into the wooden post, the mark penetrating nearly as deep as a finger.

It's important to note that this was achieved without any assistance from Genuine Qi, a testament to the sheer force of the sword technique alone.

With the Nine Transformations into One, the Rushing Thunder Nine Swords had reached perfection.

For Yuan Ling to exhibit such skill at the age of ten was bound to astound any onlooker.

As he sheathed his sword, there was no hint of triumph on Yuan Ling's face; instead, a bitter smile crept across his lips.

"In another month, I'll turn ten, yet I haven't managed to open even a single meridian. My talent might just be the poorest among those my age..."

Despite never seeing himself in such a light, Yuan Ling had achieved the realm of Human Sword Unification at the tender age of eight, thanks to his eidetic memory. But who among his peers could claim the same feat?

The true obstacle preventing him from unlocking his body's meridians was the Sword Qi Shackles within him. Each time he neared a breakthrough, an invisible lock would materialize, ensnaring his meridians in an intangible bondage. No amount of effort seemed to make a difference—it was like an ant shaking a tree, utterly futile.

The Sword Blood Shackles are a unique attribute of the Sword Blood Clan, present from birth.

It's the Sword Blood Bloodline that grants them an extraordinary understanding and intuition for the sword, elevating them beyond the reach of ordinary people. Without it, even with an eidetic memory, achieving Human Sword Unification would be a daunting challenge. The world is not short of individuals who can capture their experiences or receive personal instruction from a master of the Sword Dao.

Yet, not everyone can attain Human Sword Unification.

There's a downside to every advantage, and for Yuan Ling, the constraints of the Sword Blood Bloodline meant that despite exerting ten times more effort than his peers, he saw no success. Any other child might have surrendered to despair, but Yuan Ling remained steadfast.

"One can only succeed if they never give up!" his father, Yuan Kong, would often say.

For those with Sword Blood, opening the first meridian is an arduous task, but once achieved, they ascend to the pinnacle of martial artists within their tier.

Yuan Ling vividly recalled his father's words: for those with Sword Blood, opening the first meridian before sixteen isn't late. Success in the Foundation Building stage means that subsequent cultivation will progress at a doubled pace, vastly outstripping peers.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Yuan Ling reflected on the final sword thrust he had executed moments before. He could sense a meridian within him quivering, on the verge of yielding.

Though he had yet to succeed, the profound sense of an impending breakthrough lifted Yuan Ling's spirits. His diligent practice was bearing fruit. With continued perseverance, perhaps that elusive meridian would finally yield.

As dawn broke, Yuan Ling packed his belongings, doused the fire, slid his wooden sword back into his belt, and turned to leave.

The cave was exceedingly well-hidden within a thick forest, seldom visited by anyone, particularly in such foul weather.

Despite the chill of winter, the forest was predominantly coniferous, maintaining a lush greenery.

Yuan Ling quickly reached the fringe of the dense woods.

Suddenly, he halted, his steps ceasing as he concentrated. He had caught the faint sound of voices.

Thanks to the enhancement from the Sword Blood Clan's bloodline and his relentless training, his hearing had become incredibly acute, even though he was not yet a martial artist. He could detect the faintest noises from tens of meters away.

The voices were hushed, stirring a sense of familiarity in him, which piqued his curiosity even more.

"The Yuan family's baptism day is drawing near. What's the progress?"